Sorry for the raw nakedness of this photo, but it speaks volumes. Within this image, there is an embedded message for you to decipher for yourself based on your perceptions and life experiences. It is unfortunate that I feel the need, but I must ask that each person respects the intended message of this image and not make sexual comments about my body. Any thoughts, comments or desire to share your personal experiences….or even requests for support/healing are fully welcome. I also want to honour the women and men in our world who have/will experience any form of sexual assault or abuse. I cherish you. You are worthy. What happened to you was NOT YOUR FAULT!

I also wanted to share something a friend of mine wrote about this image when he first saw it:

“Where to begin?
The first time I interacted with you in depth was on your “victim to goddess thread.” I knew that you had vast experience of the dark and the light. Any attempt at liberating your experience of these things would be an exercise in understatement.

The picture of you with your stepdad and mom was immediately repugnant to me, when combined with your words “He started abusing me as a baby” (paraphrased). I knew, however, to give it time to marinate. The voices of my process reminded me that “The ego speaks first, always screams, and is always lying…” But I was afraid to visit this, or so I was told by my ego.

The memories of childhood tempted to haunt me, but I had already worked through them. And they were nowhere near as repetitive in nature as your experiences. Then you posted the RAPE album. What an ugly image. But wait, is it really ugly? What’s ugly about this set of images? Is it the woman? Absolutely not, you’re classic beautiful with bells and whistles thrown in. Is it the tears running down your face? Not really, because I’ve seen ads with this portrayed before, and it wasn’t ugly, yet it was sad. What about the red handprints all over her body? Were they ugly? No. They were actually artistic.

The thing that the registry of my mind deemed “ugly” was the *combination* of all these pieces, and what they represented. This is an artistic representation of a beautiful woman who is a survivor of horrible things. Things that many people compartmentalize into the boxes labeled “DO NOT OPEN EVER”.

And yet, the box had been opened… and not in a quiet way. This box of rape survivorship had been flung open with screams that said “I WIN!” A true paradox.

The ugly truth was there in plain sight, represented in a way that simply could NOT be ignored. There was no way to “un-see” the pictures. There was no way to “un-process” what they meant. And there was no way to say “I don’t care” or “I don’t want to think about this.” This beautiful survivor and thriving woman had been raped over and over, and the time to process this was now… And I do care.

There is no way to process this without feeling (a) compassion (b) anger, and (c) deep admiration and applause for the courage for you, as a heroine who in effect is saying: “This happened to me, it was NOT MY FAULT, and I SURVIVED AND AM THRIVING!”

In effect, you took the power back from the pig(s) who saw you as an object, those goddamn bastards who, by brute force or intimidation acted without conscience or moral aptitude, and you said I AM ALIVE, I LIVE, I LOVE, and I AM A CONQUEROR. YOU DID NOT KILL ME! I AM STRONGER BECAUSE I SURVIVED YOUR ACTIONS! (AND YOU DESERVE TO BE OUTED FOR YOUR ACTIONS…)

And this woman, this heroine, is someone I am proud to know. Just.Fuckin’.WOW.

Joy Nelson. A Surviving, Thriving, World-changing goddess…”

Related articles

• What to Do If You Are Raped (drlauraberman.com)
• Surviving Rape: He Used To Shout ‘Slut’ Every Time He Saw Me (commonhealth.wbur.org)
• Date Rape is a Sexual Assault (drlauraberman.com)
• Promiscuous character of woman irrelevant in rape cases: SC (ibnlive.in.com)
• Sarelle Sheldon: “I Am Still Sarelle Sheldon” (huffingtonpost.ca)
• Male rape victims in Uganda speak out (toysoldier.wordpress.com)

Photo Credit: Layoutsparks.com

When we were both sated, we adjusted our clothing. We walked, hand in hand, back to my front door where he once again kissed me, this time a bit less passionately and we said our good byes……”
Oh boy, my imagination has the better of me!

Written by Nature Girl

There were a few boys here and there who paid attention to me now and then, but nothing worth mentioning. Well, I guess there was this kid Matthew who sat directly behind me in my home room class who used to enjoy shooting spit balls at my head.

I remember Mr. Zoolak singling me out in front of the class for yelling at Matthew. In my mind, what he was doing was torture. Mr. Zoolak, however, had a different take on things. I did not like his point of view, nor the fact that he decided to share his opinion with my entire fourth grade class.

Mr. Zoolak was quite convinced that this game of spit balls and fury was all about childish love. At the time, I nearly threw up at the idea of it. I mean, for real? Matthew and I were somehow infatuated with each other and were showing our feelings through this immature display of simpleton behaviour?

Though I hate to admit it, Mr. Zoolak may have been onto something. Looking back on it now, I see his point. I mean, I did find Matthew kind of cute and he did ask me out years later at a time when I no longer found him cute. I turned him down flat and crushed his ego. Poor guy:-)

Over the years, things improved. Although the boys still used childish and insulting manners to express their feelings, I definitely gained more popularity as my body developed and I grew out of my awkwardness.

The biggest transformation of my youth happened when I finally entered high school. Before going forward, I am must inform you that the high school I attended was a backwoods, redneck, rock ‘em sock ‘em, borderline psychotic place to learn.

Over the years at SDHS, I would experience sexual assaults, harassment, and some intense bullying, but those are stories for a different day. This story is the one about my first “real kiss”.

The boy who stole my first kiss one stormy night on the corner of Pefferlaw Boulevard and Station Road was just an average guy. His name was Mike Garner and I honestly didn’t really like him all that much, though he definitely had his sights set on me.

He arranged to meet me and a bunch of my friends to go watch a baseball game down at the local ball field. I have never liked organised sports, but in my home town, organised sports are sacred. To avoid being seen as a total hippie chick misfit, I often tagged along and pretended to be interested in whatever God awful sport I forced myself to watch.

This ball game was no different. While everyone else was hooting and hollering, I spent my time unsuccessfully trying not to look bored. Though I must admit, something about how excited Mike got when our team won made me take note. He seemed truly invested in the success of the team. This stood out to me because very few people I knew were truly invested in anything other than the art of getting by.

There was also something about the way Mike looked at me. Of course we all know the old saying “the eyes are the window to the soul”., but his eyes were this and more. He spoke volumes without saying a single word. I liked that about him.

As we walked back to town, he conveniently found himself walking right next to me. I can still remember the feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach when I looked to my right and realized how close he was. Our hands brushed briefly and he found the courage to take my hand in his.

My hand was cold, but his was warm and comforting. I accepted his hand while the butterflies in my stomach continued to flutter and the speed of my heart beat increased.

I caught the eye of my best friend, who gave me a smirk. I nearly burst out laughing in response. She always had that effect on me, but I managed to keep my cool, while walking hand in hand with Mike.

Just before we reached town, the sky darkened and a huge crash of thunder startled me, as the sky lit up with bolts of lightning. I remember thinking my heart would burst from the excitement of the moment.

Moments later, I felt the first drops of rain hit my face. I looked up into the sky, welcoming the warm droplets of water. I had not yet thought of what would happen when the rain made my tight white tank top transparent. I was too focused on the feelings building in my body to think that far ahead.

As the rain began to fall, Mike turned me towards him and looked directly into my eyes. Our friends dropped out of my view and I felt a sense of anticipation in the pit of my stomach. Mike looked down briefly taking in my whole body. My eyes naturally followed his and I realized my breasts, which were bare beneath my shirt, were fully visible through my soaking wet top.

I brought my hand to my chest in a sad attempt to cover myself, but Mike pushed my hand away and continued to look me up and down. He brushed my left cheek with his hands, looked into my eyes again and said “you are truly beautiful”.

My eyes cast down in response, but he gently pulled my face towards his and forced me to look into his eyes. Without speaking so much as a word, he led me towards the red brick wall of the Station Restaurant. I turned away from him and leaned against the cold bricks and looked up at him once more.

He leaned  back beside me then pulled my body onto his. I had never been so close to a young man before. The sensations rippling through my body were intense and wondrous. I remember wanting to be closer to him.

I pushed my body against his, feeling his chest brush against my cold, wet nipples. A rush of heat ripped through my body just as Mike’s lips touched mine. His kiss was soft and questioning. It was as if he was asking permission to dig deeper into this moment with me.

I accepted by placing my hands on his face and pulling him even closer to me. His lips passionately explored mine as the sensations in our bodies were unleashed. I parted my lips slightly, giving him permission to go further. His tongue entered my mouth and began caressing my lips.

The feelings running through me were so divine. I felt weak at the knees, yet powerful. We kissed for what seemed like eternity, then I pulled back, signalling that we had gone far enough.

Mike took a deep sigh, removed his jacket, and placed it over my shoulders. As we walked back towards our group of friends in silence I was filled with a sense of wonder and intrigue.

Oh my. Not sure this post is totally on topic per se, but the events I am about to share have consumed my energy for the past two days. I generally do not talk a lot about the intricate details of my kid’s lives, but since this situation was already spread all over Facebook, I think it is safe for me to explore.

I will give you a bit of background so you are up to speed. I have empowered my daughter to learn about and embrace her sexuality. I have taught her all that she will allow me to share with her. I have ensured that she has all of the resources, knowledge and tools necessary to safely and sensually navigate the world.

She is a sexually empowered young woman who truly knows what she wants for herself. Other than a couple of lunch dates with friends who happen to be male, she has intentionally avoided dating. I have supported her in this decision and would also support her if she had a change of heart.

My point? Things have been relatively smooth and uneventful. Until yesterday, that is. The drama that unfolded was not unleashed by my daughter’s actions, but by her best friends actions and those of the boy said friend had been dating.

Her friend’s story is quite classic really. Girl meets boy. Girl likes boy. Girl asks boy out. Girl goes to dance. Girl meets another boy. The other boy kisses girl. This is the part where all hell breaks loose! The short version is this…

The boy who was originally dating my daughter’s friend was naturally hurt and felt betrayed and all that jazz (all this after 1-2 weeks of teen dating). He decides to wage a verbal battle against my daughter’s friend…beyond multiple phone calls to my home (she was sleeping over when this unfolded) this brilliant young man (and I am not being sarcastic, he is honestly quite brilliant) hacks the girl’s Facebook account and posts a really nasty and slanderous status update.

Luckily, I happened to see it right away and had her delete it and change her password immediately. I posted polite but forceful comment on the girl’s wall reminding this boy that what he is doing is over the top and did I mention illegal?

Of course, my daughter, being the empowered young woman she is decides that, considering this is simply another typical case of teenage drama and that things have gone over the top (sparked partially by her friend who was by this time bawling her eyes out and dropping huge tears onto her laptop). She basically threw herself into the middle of things with the best of intentions.

The attack on the girl was now directed at my daughter. My sweet, innocent little girl. I mean, of course I care for her friend, but he actually called my daughter some very, very intense names. Well, this might surprise you a bit about me, so please sit down for this. I grew up in a rock ‘em sock ‘em redneck town in Ontario, Canada.

Where I come from, if you attack a girl’s reputation, it’s war. Literally. I’m talking baseball bats to vehicles, punching each other out…you get the idea, right? When I was a teen, my little sister had a habit of getting herself into hot water and I was always there to defend her.

But this was not my little sister, this was my little girl. My first-born child. My baby girl. And on top of everything else, in all technicality, her only action was to defend her best friend in the face of some seriously emotionally abusive crap.

I felt my entire body vibrating. My little girl was now shaking and looking close to tears. My 9-year-old daughter looked concerned and was wondering what the heck was going on. In just a few moments, our peaceful home was in a state of emotional turmoil. And honestly the warrior goddess within was unearthed…I wanted to kick this punk’s ass!

Luckily, I managed to find my breath and my center. Mountain talked me down a bit and I once again found my inner calmness. I asked the girls to block this kid from their Facebook accounts and not communicate with him or anyone else connected to this situation until I had some time to contemplate how we should move forward.

Well, today is Sunday and tomorrow is another day in paradise (Highschool). I decided that, especially considering I had home schooled my daughter all the way up until high school so that she could be herself without anyone else negatively influencing how she felt about herself (and many other far more empowering reasons) that I was not going to let some kid wreck her day/life.

As we all know, when you’re a teenager, your emotions run high and even the smallest thing can make you feel like it’s the end of the world. This was not just a small thing. My daughter had been called a whore and a slut simply because she stuck up for her friend! This struck a core issue with me. What do those kind of harsh names have to do with sticking up for your friend? Absolutely frigging nothing, that’s what!

Although I was cursing Facebook for providing this boy with a platform to slander and verbally attack my girls, I decided to use it to my advantage. First off, I had written proof of everything that had taken place. In addition, I could communicate directly with this kid.

Which is exactly what I did. I managed to find my logical, diplomatic hat, force it onto my head and I began mediating. It took a long time to have a break through. At first, I wasn’t even sure if the kid would respond. He did. At first, he was condescending and unable to see how he had even remotely contributed to the situation.

I was able to enlighten him. After a lengthy discussion via back and forth messages, we came to an agreement and found resolution. He acknowledged how his reaction to this incident had affected not only my daughter and her friend, but also my family. My main points were that his actions, especially towards my daughter, were unwarranted. I also educated him about healthy communication and emotional processing. Not to mention the legal implications of slander, bullying and hacking someone else’s Facebook account.

He retracted what he has said about my daughter, and agreed that, if my daughter withdrew from all discussion that he would also stop. He eventually even apologized for directing his anger at my daughter and for disrupting my family time. All in all, it was an intense situation that could have ended badly. I actually ended up thanking him for taking the time to communicate with me and finding resolution. I even wished him better luck in his future romantic connections

After seeing how intensely each person involved felt about their own perspective, I found myself gaining a deeper understanding of how cyber bullying happens and what can be done about it. There are definitely times where parental involvement is not enough to stop cyber bullying. However, if parents are paying close attention in a caring and compassionate manner, there is a chance that parental involvement is precisely what is needed to rapidly end the bullying.

As for the young woman who was directly involved in this situation, I had a serious talk with her about her own contribution to the conflict. I in no way shamed her or made her feel responsible for this young man’s emotional tirade. However, I asked her to reflect not only on her actions, but also her choice to date at such a young age. Not to mention her choice in partners.

I told her that, she is a beautiful young woman and she made a mistake. I let

her know that we all make mistakes, but that learning from our mistakes is what defines our character and consequently how we lead our lives. Funny, it was the same thing I said to the boy about his actions.

I know that, for some teens, the onslaught of verbal abuse and bullying goes on for so long and becomes so intense that the only escape they see is to end their lives. This deeply saddens me and illustrates how much work needs to be done to create a compassionate and safe society for our youth. I have my fingers crossed and am hoping that this awful situation is truly behind us. I also like to think that, in the process, I created some small, positive change in each of their lives.

Related articles

• Cyber Bullying Victims: Celebrities (thekelleymoody.wordpress.com)
• The Era of Cyber-Bullying by Alex Lewis (eng1050175.wordpress.com)
• What Are Your Children Doing Online? (ireport.cnn.com)

Motherhood (Photo credit: ignatzmice)

Mountain first bought me a copy of Diana Richardson’s book, Tantric Orgasm for Women as a Christmas present almost 10 years ago. Although I had been studying Tantra and experimenting sexually for many years, this book truly changed my life forever.

The other day, I cracked open the little gem and began re-reading this life altering book. Reading it now does not hold the same power for me. I needed to hear the words contained in Tantric Orgasm for Women when I first read it, but I have evolved and no longer need the lessons within.

However, it is hard to say what would have happened to my self-development and feminine evolution had I not read the right book for me at the optimal time in my life. I know from both the comments and the emails I receive that some of you are in a place in your life where a book entirely dedicated to pleasure, orgasm and/or sensuous exploration is just what you need.

I cannot be sure if the book that changed my life and subsequently my sex life is the same book you need right now. With this in mind, I would like to ask my empowered blog readers to share the title and a brief personal description of a book that was important to your sexual/emotional/sensual development (both men and women please).

When I first read Tantric Orgasm for Women, the chapter that held the most power for me was: Women as Lover during Menstruation, Fertility, Pregnancy, Motherhood, and Menopause. Even though I was sexually empowered, the main female role models in my life; all of whom were  mothers (including my mother) were NOT sexually empowered or sensually expressive. I did not fit the mold.

When I gave birth to my first child, I equated that moment in my life with a new phase of self-sacrifice and sexual repression. Somehow, through observing the authoritative women in my life and developing a belief system about womanhood, I honestly felt shameful when I felt aroused, which happened/happens many, many moments throughout each day.

When I gave in to my desire and brought myself to increasing peaks of sexual pleasure, I felt guilty. Even worse, was when I opened myself fully to penetrative sex. There was something broken in me. Something damaged. I was completely lost.

Luckily, I am a woman who trusts her intuition. During the first few years of motherhood, I experienced tension headaches, back aches, and various feminine issues (ovarian cysts, intense menstrual cramps, mastitis, etc.). My body was wrathful. I was denying myself deep, sexual pleasure. I was no longer following my bliss.

Although I had already worked through much of my issues related to womanhood, motherhood and female sexuality; Diana, with her gentle wisdom and encouragement validated what I already knew to be true. I am a sexually empowered woman. Pleasure is my birth right. To deny my need for sexual satisfaction and sensual connection with my lover causes dis-ease in my body. Sexual connection, pleasure and exploration heals the dis-ease in my body. Truly.

I want to encourage each of you to check in with yourself. You are not the same person you were 10 years ago and you are not the same person now that you will be 10 years from now. You as a sexual being are constantly evolving. While you are checking in with yourself, be aware of how you feel about your sexuality as it expresses itself in this phase of your life

When I check in with myself, I close my eyes, place one hand on my heart, the other on my solar plexus, and focus on my breath. As I connect with the rhythm of my breath, I allow my mind to flow through my body, looking for places that I am holding tension. As I discover tension, I send my breath to the area of my body holding stress.

As the tension and stress melt from me, I connect with my inner arousal. I don’t just mean sexual arousal…I am speaking of something deeper than the physical arousal in my body. What I am speaking of is the emotional, physical and spiritual arousal held within. When my emotions, my spirit and my physical body are healthy and joyous, I am more connected with my sexuality.

Though my life is not without challenges and change, I dedicate my mind to the practice of embracing both the challenges and the changes in my life. I draw on my inner resources to create balance in my life. A relevant quote:

“Deep within man dwell those slumbering powers; powers that would astonish him, that he never dreamed of possessing; forces that would revolutionize his life if aroused and put into action.” -Orison Swett Marden-

Joy: Into Me See…

While you are checking in with yourself, focus on those slumbering powers that dwell deep within you. Know that you have powers that you never dreamed you possess. If you awaken your intrinsic power and put it into action, you will revolutionize your life. By revolutionizing your life, your sex life naturally evolves as well.

For me, I am motivated by sensuous living and sexual passion. You must discover your personal motivation. Don’t follow my lead. Discover or re-discover what motivates you, what arouses your inner power. Awaken and bring awareness to your intrinsic sensual qualities. That’s all she wrote. From my heart to yours, Joy

Related articles

• Sexual Energy is Our Life Force… (angelabrentharris.com)

I am both excited and nervous for her. Once I had the kiddos out the door, I decided to lay back down for a few minutes since my younger two (home schoolers) were still not up. I was pleasantly surprised to receive a mid-morning visit from my man who had left earlier to feed the animals on the farm where he works.

The kids woke up and we shared a quick breakfast, some herbal tea and headed off to the farm. Oh my, it’s breathtaking here on Salt Spring today! The sun is shining in all her glory, the animals are awake and active and a warm breeze is blowing through the moss covered trees.

The farm where Mountain works has beautiful rolling hills and some of the most uniquely beautiful garden spaces and greenhouses. I love my Arizona ranch, but I must admit, this little island has stolen my heart! As I was walking along a sun-drenched crest at the top of the ranch property, I found my mind drifting to you, my readers!

Namaste Copyright Tantrachick 2012

Many of you have truly touched my heart and soul over the past few years of blogging. Through this blog, I have been inspired and deeply moved. A few of you have commented on my pioneering spirit or my bravery in being transparent. I want you to know that it is all of you who have helped me discover my voice and find the courage within to speak what’s on my mind.

It is my deepest desire to inspire you to let your own light shine. To find your inner sexiness and express it in a way that works for you. I want you to have moments so beauty-full that you are sure your heart will burst with joy. But more than anything, I want you to live a sensuous life filled with love, passion and soul moving pleasure. From my heart to yours, Joy

“Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.”
― Jim Morrison

I apologize in advance for the uncharacteristically sarcastic tone of this post.

One of my most inspirational lady friends, Miss Ruby Slippers, sent me an interesting message. I am inspired to write my response to what Ruby shared with me. In a nutshell, the post  discussed whether or not a woman can have a clean-shaven vagina and still be a feminist.

The woman discussing the issue is “pro pubic hair choice”…meaning that she supports a woman’s right to choose how she grooms her pubes and still call herself a Feminist. However, there are people with more extreme opinions who say that a woman cannot have a clean-shaven vagina and be a true Feminist.

The fact that this topic is even up for discussion illustrates how far we as women have to go not only in our societal development, but also in our personal development. I mean seriously? I cannot shave my pubic hair and call myself a feminist? GIVE ME A BREAK! YES, I AM YELLING!

I prefer to have a neatly trimmed bush with clean-shaven under arms and legs. I also randomly grow out my bush and don’t bother shaving my armpits and legs…before you know it, my body is a freshly patterned oasis of pubes, gently curling leg hairs and some quite manly underarm hair.

GASP! Oh no, I am so confused! Does this mean that I am only a true blue feminist when I am a Bohemian hippie chick? I suppose then, when I am clean-shaven and my yoni is neatly trimmed, I am an anti-feminist? Let me get this straight–my status as a Feminist is decided by someone else based on the amount of bodily hair I adorn. WTF? Seriously?

What if I let my bush grow all bohemian style and shave my arm pits, but grow my leg hair. Then I must be a confused woman who clearly doesn’t know what she wants for herself and her fellow women. Because that makes total sense. NOT!

See how ridiculous things get when we start relating our status as a Feminist with the percentage of our body that is or is not covered with hair? I mean, if a guy shaves his balls, does that make him less of a man? I think not.

NEVER and I do mean NEVER would a man’s contribution to society, equality, or his status in the realm of manliness be based on the percentage of pubic hair he has on his balls. Saying that a woman is a Feminist if she grows her bush out, but is an anti-feminist if she shaves her bush is unacceptable. I understand the intended message–be natural, be you and don’t sexualize yourself. However, telling a woman what her beliefs are based on her personal grooming choice is not equality, it is the subtle subjugation of women masked as Feminism.

Somehow, as women, we not only allow others to objectify us, we also objectify ourselves and one another. According to Wikipedia, “ Objectification more broadly is an attitude that regards a person as a commodity or as an object for use, with little or no regard for a person’s personality or sentience. Objectification is most commonly examined at a societal level, but can also arise at an individual level.”

This type of labeling based on a woman’s very most intimate bodily choices is also objectification of women; seeing us as objects with specific labels based on our physical appearance rather than our personality and our actions. I will not allow myself or my fellow women to be treated like objects and labeled based on how we groom our pubic hair! We have the right to express our individuality in any way we feel fit!

According to Webster’s dictionary, a Feminist is “A person who supports feminism”. To take things one step deeper, Feminism is ”The advocacy of women’s rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men.”

If we let others tell us that we are not true feminists based on the  state of our lady bits, we are accepting the objectification and subtle subjugation of women. Please show us some respect and judge us based on our verbal declarations, personal choices, and our actions, not our pubic hair! Believe it or not, men and women who shave their pubic hair are still sentient beings with the capability of advocating for women’s rights.

In my humble opinion, Feminist bushes come in all shapes and sizes!

Exposed, The Toxic Chemistry of Everyday Products… (Photo credit: Earthworm)

A few years back I became a Passion Consultant through a large corporation that was started by a broke mom with a vision. I love the story of how Passion Parties (PP) came to be. The story is one of those broke mom sitting at her kitchen table feeling like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.

She was a woman who wanted more for her life and specifically, she wanted more for her children. And did she ever achieve the goals she set out and beyond! It was reading her story that made me feel passionate (pun intended) about joining Passion Parties.

I became a consultant and started setting up sex toy parties here on Salt Spring. The unfortunate issue was that the products were in no way natural, let alone organic. A number of people asked me how I could be selling products that were not healthy for women…you see…Salt Spring is a haven for the ultra natural, healthy hippie chicks. Not a good place to sell intimate products loaded with petrochemicals and other known carcinogens.

I found that, after digging in and doing my research, I could not stand behind the passion parties brand. That is when I began designing my own line of glass dildos and other more natural alternatives. Luckily, the woman who lead my PP team, Dawn Martinez, was inspired by what I shared with her about the products she and her team were selling.

She asked me to compile the information I had gathered and present it via email to some of the head honchos. I walked away and over time, almost completely forgot about my time with PP. Eventually, Dawn followed up to tell me that Passion Parties were glad that I brought these issues to their attention!!!

It was an incredible feeling to know that Margaret Mead’s famous quote “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” is accurate. Passion Parties created an entire line of more natural and healthful products!

Not to say tat their products would pass the intense quality control of the full on organic loving ladies that tend to gravitate to Salt Spring, but I was truly impressed with PP’s ability to respond to the needs of their customers.

I still didn’t ever plan on going back to PP, but last night a friend of mine inspired me to reconsider. She actually said that the sex toy party that I organized was the “|best party she had ever attended!” I suppose I see her point…when do a group of women get together to talk about sex, explore their more sensuous side, play eros inspired games AND buy intimate toys that enhance their sex lives?

So, the jury is not in, but I do hear Passion Parties calling my name once again! I am picturing taking their Kama Sutra line and developing a Tantra themed party…Well, that’s all she wrote…from my heart to yours, Joy

I Just Had Sex (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I must admit…there was not much to tell about last night. Mountain and I both worked long hours, cleaned the house together and then drank a couple glasses of wine just before bed. Once our heads hit the pillow, we found ourselves tangled in a very pg rated cuddlefest.

However, this evening, our teenagers and our youngest daughter were all on sleep overs. Only our thirteen year old was home. Being an intuitive, he said he was going to read in his room and would use the downstairs bathroom so we could have some “alone time”. Wink wink nudge nudge.

Oh my gawd…did we ever need some serious alone time! I started out by massaging Mountain’s over worked body while we were sitting and chatting on our loveseat. Once he felt some much needed tension release, we made our way to our bed. I continued to honour and massage Mountain’s muscles. I worked my way across his body, honouring not only his body, but his spirit as well.

As I worked my way down his body, I found myself fantasizing about making love to my man. It might seem odd that, after so many moons together, I would still lose myself in an erotic fantasy about my man…but I shit you not; he is my fantasy. Together, though it may sound cheesy, we make music. For real. I am fairly certain that, when we make love, the ravens sing, the hummingbirds collect nectar and the fairies dance in celebration.

Anyways, as I worked my way down Mountain’s body, I found myself drawn to his lovely cock. I breathed into the center of my soul, rearranged his body to my liking, pulled my comfy grey sweater back to expose my breasts and took him inside me. As I felt the tip of his lingam enter me, I felt a rush of eros ripple through my entire being.

I heard my inner being scream yes!, oh my gawd, yes! He responded by pushing himself all the way inside of me. I allowed him to slowly penetrate not just my yoni, but my soul as well. He slid past my moist opening towards my g-spot, activating my pleasure response. Oh my…I am losing myself in the moment…breathe Joy, breathe!

All I can say is this–Wow! We still have it’ sex Magik! That’s all she wrote…time for bed. Sweet dreams y’all!

Photo Credit: The Lovers – Jan Saudek

LMAO! For those of you who are not tech savvy, that means laugh my ass off! I was sitting here contemplating my renewed commitment to blogging…and was honestly lacking inspiration. Mountain and I were/are sitting on our loveseat, each sipping a glass of Shiraz…I turned to him and said “babe…blog post topic…GO!” He says ” I don’t have a clue.” I put on my serious face and poke him and say again “Blog post topic…GO! ” Fine, he concedes. “What I’m going to do to my husband tonight!” Mountain says with a smirk on his face.

Walked right into that one! So, I am now contemplating not what to write about, but what I will “do to my husband tonight”. My arousal process is mainly based on emotional connection. Luckily for Mountain, he loaded up a month’s worth of garbage and recycling today and took it to the recycling/garbage depot, which I sincerely appreciated. Also, while I was at work this evening, Mountain cooked dinner for our kids.

I came home to a house that was not better, but also no worse than when I left and he met me with a sweet,  sensuous kiss. He also took the time to listen to me chatter on about the ups and downs of my day. He even spent at least 30 minutes discussing my newest erotica novel plot. He’s in. What can I say? I need practical, hands on contributions to the household and emotional connection to feel revved up…it’s my prerogative.

Now for the juicy tidbits. Rggg…Mountain keeps peeking over to look at the computer screen, which I find very inhibiting! Anyways…the decision is in…I will begin the evening by massaging my man’s arms (may not sound sexy to you, but he was out digging gardens all day and has sore arms). Once he is feeling a little more relaxed, I will ask him to take a shower with me.

While in the shower, I will tease him to no end…there will be soap, handjobs and all kinds of naughty tricks…but no release. Once we towel off and find ourselves cuddling beneath the crisp, cold sheets of our bed, I will  bring him to increasing states of pleasure. Sorry there are no details…this event has not yet taken place…I promise to fill you in later. Sweet dreams. Joy